


In Times of the Unkown

by Fawning_Freckles



Series: Superhero AU [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Many things happen and majority of these pairings end worse than they started, Multi, Mystery, Some Fluff, The relationships in the tags are only the ones that are prexisting, There is another character that I can't spoil in the tags so yeah, so just keep that in mind if these are your otps
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-15 14:32:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11807904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fawning_Freckles/pseuds/Fawning_Freckles
Summary: It's been a month since Feliciano fell into his coma. Everyone is afraid to admit the growing tension, especially between Ludwig and Arthur. Francis has been trying desperately to heal the crushed bonds between them all, but they only grow weaker every day. It's the perfect time for a villain to strike. Imagine their luck; one does.





	1. Prolouge

"Feliciano...mio figlio, vieni qui…"

Feliciano sat up with a start, breath going heavy and his eyes blinking in rapid succession. Suspense built up quickly, flooding his body and making him feel the sudden need to move, scramble, to just get away. Limbs moved on their own accord, and his body lurched forward gripping at the bed sheets for leverage. Yet, his torso stayed in place, only budging enough to allow his head to bob forward in a pathetic attempt at reaching some sort of freedom.

Strong arms were the source of his sudden and unannounced restraint. He wondered when they had appeared, or if they had been there the whole time. His hands relocated and tugged harshly at them, trying to get them to release his hips. Yet, the arms did not budge at all and the Italian actually felt them tighten slightly. A familiar feel came with the tightness of the hold, one Feliciano knew all too well. Yet, his breath continued to climb in rapidness, despite the gentle rubbing at his hip bones that was trying to offer comfort. Ludwig started taking deep breaths to encourage Feliciano to follow the same pattern. Yet, the Italian could do nothing but shiver, terrified to move.

"Feli, you were having the nightmare again." Ludwig's tone was soft, and despite the clear worry the lack of sleep made Feliciano feel the need to respond with 'no shit.'

"Yeah." Was the weak answer that came out of his chapped lips instead. His throat was rough, making the usually higher than average pitch come out scratchy. He grimaced at it, wanting to rub his neck but he felt frozen. So just helpless that it hurt.

"Do you want some time to think? I can get water."

On any other night, in any other circumstance, the Italian would let out a sob and beg the German to stay, clinging to him and against the even thought of Ludwig leaving him for any amount of time. Feliciano was too reliant for even his own liking, but it was a fact he could not deny. He needed comfort constantly when he was younger, he needed it more often than not now.

But Feliciano nodded, eyes still trained on the sheets twisted and clenched in his fists. He felt the strong arms retreat, and his body relaxed fully, thankful to be let out of his temporary restraints. He felt the need to apologize to Ludwig for his inherent fear, but before he could the blond was gone, leaving quickly and closing the door to their dorm. Feliciano was thankful that Ludwig took the tension with him, as the room returned back to the calm and quiet one he had fallen asleep in earlier, instead of the suspenseful void he had been in moments ago.

It wasn't his partner that made him tense or feel uneasy, but the idea of having him around after the nightmare gave him such guilt and fear that Feliciano could never look at Ludwig after it. Not till he cleared his head. Luckily, Ludwig was as clever as always and Feliciano knew his water run would take longer than 30 minutes, despite the kitchen being right next to the dorms at the base. Sometimes Feliciano would want it to last longer, sometimes shorter. It depended on the nightmare each time. Sometimes it would be short, and he would only need a small cool down. Other times, Feliciano would scurry and lock the door after Ludwig had left, pretending not to hear the gentle knocks as he curled up, hands buried in his hair and tugging, demanding for her to go away.

Closing his eyes, he quickly fell back against the mattress. The nightmare hadn't been so intense this time around, and he felt far too sluggish from the adrenaline leaving his system to get up and lock the door.

Feliciano laid for a long time in the silence, feeling his body work out, even more, tension as he listened to the gentle hum of the building instead of the thoughts running and clanging in his head. It was comforting, the hum of machinery that pumped into the base. It reminded him of Kiku and his workshop, which in turn brought happy thoughts to his head, ones of friendship and laughter.

'Kiku how do you build such complex machinery? And the power circuit alone must have been a nightmare to figure out!'

Kiku chuckled, giving Feliciano a sideways look. 'Trust me, you could do it too, Feli, if someone taught you like they did me.'

'I'm your friend, Kiku. That doesn't mean you get to lie to me about my own capabilities! I couldn't figure this out even if I tried.'

Kiku laughed again, and Feliciano giggled alongside him, looking at the new katanas Kiku had been specializing so he too could become of use despite his lack of a superpower.

'Your engineering really is amazing, Kiku. Soon, you can fight along with us and we can all take down those bad guys together!' Feliciano puffed out his chest and cheeks, raising his arms in a mock flex. 'The Unstoppable Three; Lampo, Mastiff, and introducing, Ninja Man!'

'Feli, I am glad that you are not the one in charge of picking out names for people here.'

"I thought Ninja Man was cool…'

He chuckled then at his own innocence and jokes, and even how he still sort of thought it would have worked out if Kiku had ended up going with the instead of Kusanagi. He got the cultural importance and respected Kiku for choosing a valiant name but still, Ninja Man might have worked.

Feliciano blinked open his eyes once more, letting the memory fade despite his want to clutch onto it. He told himself to let it go for now, that it had served its purpose of momentary comfort. He looked for another thought, another memory of something good to remember. His eyes flicked behind closed eyelids, as though he could see the next memory to occur float behind them. Maybe of the first time he met Ludwig, which had been a whirlwind he would neve-

"Feliciano, mio prezio."

He immediately reopened his eyes and gripped the sheets on his sides once more, breath picking up again into a sporadic rhythm. That shouldn't be a memory, no, no, no. He usually had nightmares on his own, causing a strong connection to sleeping with Ludwig even before they had come to the full realization a few years back over their true feelings. But they never stuck in his mind- maybe a few pieces of the dreams would sprout here and there. Yet, this one left an impression in his mind. An image- a mother long lost in the real world but yet one that seemed so real in his dreams. And every night it would resurface right when he had calmed down, filled him with more dread and sadness that it almost made him drown again.

Drowning, that was what it was. Drowning. He hadn't found the right word till just then.

Ever since he got back from Algeria the nightmares have haunted his head. Since night one when he passed out heavily on Ludwig's chest, he woke up screaming and scrambling on top of his partner, panicked and afraid of what he saw and the guilt that took over his system immediately looking at Ludwig's face. Yet even after 3 weeks, soon to be a month, the word to describe his feelings had never surfaced till then.

Drowning.

Breath by breath at a time.

Restlessness made him flip to his side, and stare for longingly at the wall like it would yield a different result than the ceiling had. Arthur tried to provide some telekinetic solution, but no matter what they did the nightmares came back. Arthur immediately put him on a break from all League duty and told him that the leader himself would do some exams and research regarding his condition. That included poking around in his head a bit. The idea didn't worry him because he trusted Arthur to not go into his memories or look in too deep, but the proposition made Francis visibly bristle. Feliciano had tried to ask him why but the Frenchman only shook his head. Francis told him not to worry over his own superstition that had come with his increasing age, and that Feliciano should just go get some rest. Feliciano wanted to rebuttal he was only 33 and was hardly old but was not given a chance when Arthur had agreed and rushed him back to Ludwig's and his shared dorm. The Italian didn't miss the glare he gave Francis. But something told him that asking Arthur why once more would only yield no results.

Feliciano rubbed his eyes tiredly and thanked the fucking God out there that the image did not come back when his eyes closed shut once more. He sounded like Lovino more every day with the lack of sleep, his cursing having gone up from 0% to an all-time high of 50% likelihood in every sentence formulated in his head. His brother would have been so proud of him, if he wasn't in Spain with Antonio, living a happy life with tomatoes and no scary flashbacks of their Mother. Their dead Mother who he-

Felciano shivered and avoided the word. It wasn't his fault. He couldn't do anything to stop that truck. Ludwig had forgiven him for the accident, firmly stating that he did not blame Feliciano for the amnesia that had stolen the childhood he and Ludwig had shared. His Mother would have too if she was here, another thing Ludwig had assured him of. There was no reason to blame himself for this. Yet, his logic was drowned out by the guilt and tension in his chest and stomach.

Guilt. So much guilt. It was drowning him.

A knock made him jump and Ludwig sheepishly retracted his arm from the door. "Verzeihung."

"No, you're fine. Wonderful. Fantastic even." Feliciano sat up and gently grabbed the water glass offered to him before taking a shaky sip. Ludwig slipped back under the covers with him and carefully placed the glass onto the bedside table after Feliciano gave it back, not mentioning how Feliciano had just spat the water back in after letting it pool for a few seconds in his mouth. "Do you feel better?"

"Yeah- I think so. I don't see her when I close my eyes anymore." Arthur had asked him to describe the dream, hoping it would help connect back to what caused these nightmares, and Ludwig had been there for emotional support. There was no point in being specific- he was thankful he didn't have to speak her name out loud.

Ludwig nodded before he opened his arms slightly, inviting him with soft eyes in that the Italian knew only a select few could see. It made him feel that insufferable guilt and he had to look away before climbing into his arms. Ludwig gently laid them down, and Feliciano settled with his head resting on one of Ludwig's biceps, eyes even with the German's. Fingers carded lazily through his hair and he hummed his appreciation. The appreciation was not just for the gentle rub at his head but for everything. He was always amazed by how strong Ludwig really was, and how he constantly kept the Italian stable It made him feel like he often didn't do enough for Ludwig, yet as the German always reassured him he did too much for words to describe.

Warmth flooded his system bringing on a wave of tiredness. Yet the pull for sleep only made him tense slightly. "Ludwig...I'm going to fall asleep if you keep doing that." He murmured as the fingers began to scratch lightly at his scalp.

"You should try again." He insisted and as much as Feliciano wanted to comment he kept it in. He found often he held his tongue nowadays.

"I don't think I can." He murmured quietly, as his voice strained a bit at the end. Yet, he closed his eyes at the thought and persistence from Ludwig's end. The German was a stubborn man and often did not yield even for Feliciano. It was something he found admirable. The past tense told his displeasure of it now.

"Ludwig please I just-" He was shushed before pulled in slightly tighter as Ludwig shifted till he was resting on the other's chest, and an arm slung across his waist. Feliciano frowned and was about to push up off of his chest before words filtered out of Ludwig's mouth.

"O wie wohl ist mir am, Abend. Mir am Abend, wenn zur Ruh' die." Ludwig was singing. A deep sound that filtered through his ears. The occurrence so rare as it is, but now more than ever he had not been expecting it.

The lullaby continued and Feliciano felt his eyes flutter close once more and his body go lax. Damn him, he thought bitterly, but it came out soft around the edges, in a teasing manner. Or somewhat teasing. He still felt anger at being treated like a child. Yet, he knew why and knew for all reasons, they needed to take these...attacks slowly. That as much as Feliciano wanted to put them aside he couldn't. He had to face this.

As the words started to drone out into just the melody, and as Feliciano gave up his fight, the image flickered back. No immediate panic set in, only the creeping tension. His mother peered over her shoulder, eyes hidden by thick pieces of hair so similar to his own. Yet he felt as though he could actually see them, staring him down with an empty look akin to that of a blind man.. A hat and dress sat on her lap, costumes he remembered playing dress up with Ludwig in when they were younger, fresh and new. She smiled, yet it looked so wrong she felt malicious. The tree she sat in looked over a pasture, where a sky washed out in a light pink reminded him painfully of Kiku's cherry blossom tree growing in the base's garden. Despite the light, a moon hung heavy in the sky, overlooking them with a watchful eye. And almost like his nightmare took it as a request, it split open into an emerald iris, all harsh tones and accusing glares. Feliciano felt the tension smolder into fear, but felt as though even if wanted to wake up, there was no chance of him escaping this once again for the night.

The voice filtered out, but it was not of a woman, of even of a childish boy that sometimes would guest star in place of the hat It was a man, accent thick against his ears.

"Ah, Feliciano, maybe this time you won't wake up."

It added in laughter, and the green eye closed back into a pearly white moon. His mother turned to him and embraced him with open arms. She giggled into his ear, and Feliciano felt as though each little hitch of laughter sent a pint of water guzzling into his lungs.

He was drowning, drowning, and he made no move to break the surface or to swim away.


	2. Stepping In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a month since Feliciano fell into his coma. Everyone is afraid to admit the growing tension, especially between Ludwig and Arthur. Francis has been trying desperately to heal the crushed bonds between them all, but they only grow weaker every day. It's the perfect time for a villain to strike. Imagine their luck; one does.

The 100 lb punching bag came straight for Matthew's face. He tried ducking out of the way despite his proximity to the bag, but was still clipped in his shoulder. His body had been tense and in a fighting stance from gripping the bag and holding it for Ludwig. Yet, the detachment of the bag from it's clip on the ceiling had not been something he expected, and footwork did only so much when a punching bag was going 50mph at your face. Francis flinched behind the glass overlooking the training room, hands gripping into his arms when he saw Matthew massage the spot, punching bag spilling sand onto the floor underneath him.

"Uh...Ludwig?" Came Matthew's voice through the intercom and Francis switched his view over to the other blonde in the training room, currently panting and holding a bruised hand in the other. "Maybe we should stop for tonight?"

A moment of hesitation passed, and with it came a thick tension that suffocated both Matthew and Francis. Finally, the German grunted, nodding his head before he looked up to the glass. He met Francis's eyes and held them there. Examining. Francis was the first to look away, and Ludwig quickly took the queue to leave. He was gone into the male training room with the sound of a creaking door slamming against the concrete frame. Small cracks appeared around the edges, and the loud exit was enough to make Matthew jump from his spot picking up the punching bag over his uninjured shoulder.

Francis sighed, looking at his feet as the scuttled on the floor. A shaky smile crossed his face. "I'm sorry Matthew, you know that he's just-"

"Tense." He murmured back and Francis cringed back at the harsh tone that made Matthew's voice sound so foreign. "Right, he has been for the last month. Maybe it's time that he started taking therapy with Arthur. God forbid he gets some form of anger management."

Francis tensed up a bit at the passive aggressive tone, and at the mention of the Brit. "Hardly think that would work."

A pit formed in Francis's stomach and he looked up quickly, face pulled down in slight panic. The panic turned into harsh reality when he saw, Matthew was already looking at him, face scrunched up in pity as he judged Francis's own facial expression through the bulletproof glass. Another silence, another moment of hesitation.

"You're right. Those two together would be horrible. Afterall, Ludwig hasn't exactly been...fond of him." Francis looked away and did not comment further. Of course, Matthew wasn't stupid. He knew that Francis's room had finally been cleaned out for the first time in months and that the Frenchman had yet to even go near Arthur beside subtle exchanges needed. Nothing like how it used to be. And while everyone wasn't stupid on the subject either, Mathew being somewhat of a third in command left him subjected to the tense interactions the most. Yao had mentioned nothing, but Francis only assumed he too was wise as always. And if the two meeting at night sometimes was any proof, they were both comparing notes.

Yet, none of this went said, and Francis watched tight lipped as Matthew quickly turned around and put the punching bag in a pile near the door with the others. He rolled his shoulder afterward but mentioned nothing about Francis healing it. Instead, his voice shrank till it reached his usual volume.

"So, how did you enjoy Bastille Day?" Matthew asked, kindness returning a little too easily for Francis's liking. Yet he still gave a slight smile.

"Formidable. It was glad to go visit Ingrid." He thought fondly of his half sister and gave a little sigh. "She caught me up with how everyone has been doing, and how well she is doing in Vegas."

Matthew let out a little chuckle as he moved to the door beside the glass panel, punching in a code before stepping out of the training room into the control. "Isn't it weird to have a little sister in the gambling circuit?"

Francis shrugged before rolling his eyes. "She does the Bonnefoy name good. I mean, money is money. And she gets such nice clothing because of it! Her dress when I saw her; oh là là!"

Another laugh, more genuine than the last. Matthew grabbed a shirt off the table, gray with bleach stains smattering the back. Francis found it odd- Matthew was never one to screw up his clothing. Even old 'work day' shirts were respectably clean. Yet, as the old, raggedy Star Wars logo cracked on the front came into view, the truth was both quickly revealed and just priceless.

Francis examined carefully, another once over to confirm the suspension. He saw how despite his lean muscle the fabric hanged off Matthew's frame, leaving room for it to slip further than the usual tailor fit shirts Matthew preferred. A sly smirk replaced the kind smile there earlier.

"I assume that your week back in North America for Canada's independence day went well, hm?"

"Yeah, actually. The road trip was amazing- I always enjoyed looking at the way the land shifts and bends as you travel. Plus, I saw so many animals. And the diners-"

"Didn't you and Alfred go on that trip together?" Francis didn't bother letting Matthew finish. The sentence oozed all types of innuendos, and even Francis's arching eyebrow was more than enough for the meaning of his words to be properly expressed.

Matthew flushed, and looked over at Francis. Gripping his hands tightly in the hem of his shirt, he finally stumbled out his response.

"Francis!" He hissed, and Francis wasted no time laughing at the embarrassment. Well, someone was smitten.

"What? I was just wondering..."

Matthew groaned, quickly tilting his head up looking desperately. Francis would only assume he was looking for a little help or at least a little leverage from Francis. Too bad he wasn't going to get any.

"I mean, you and Alfred have been close the last month. I still have that photo from when you guys were sleeping. The drool was gross but-"

"I am going to cook myself lunch!" Matthew called, voice cracking a bit in the middle. Francis laughed again, gripping his stomach as he saw the man stomp out of the room, giving him the evil eyes as he punched in the code there too.

"Aw, Matthew, you are too sensit-"

The door slammed, and finally, Francis was left to barreling laughter and his own sweet knowledge that he was most certainly not going to investigate further.

Eventually, the quiet came back as Francis got ahold of himself, brushing back hair as he looked at the door. His smile was small, but it didn't drop. Even if everything was...a little less than normal he could count on the fact that Matthew was still a dear friend to him; no matter how their opinions varied on the tasks pursuing in the present.

Matthew had been the one to lure Ludwig away from Feliciano for a 'fun training session'. Francis had insisted that Ludwig wasn't emotionally balanced but Matthew had argued that even if he wasn't, logically he can't just spend all of his time staring at Feliciano or hiding in the Medbay. It wasn't helpful to anyone, destructive to himself even. Francis had huffed but said nothing more as Matthew finally convinced Ludwig to follow him.

Matthew had always been more logically associated in his mind. Or at least, when it came to others. He never seemed to apply the same logic to himself, often letting his emotions handle everything personal. It was something that confused Francis, how Matthew could be stuck in this, for lack of a better word, ideal limbo. For most, it was logic or emotions. Few had select in betweens.

Francis always found that his thoughts of Matthew came with the underlying worry. The Canadian was a close friend, having known him even before they had figured out they both shared an interesting talent. Matthew had been through a lot. Much more than he had in his life, and he was already in his 30s. The younger just barely hit 24 last year. Rubbing his eyes, he shook his head. His worry had no place- Matthew could take care of himself. His meek personality was nothing to be fouled by. Yet something akin to brotherly nature made him protective of the other blond.

His thoughts were disturbed by the sudden ringing of his phone, and he quickly took out the device to see who was calling. The I.D came flashing up, along with a photo or a brightly smiling brunette. Francis let his smile grow larger as he clicked the green icon. Today might have been looking up after all.

"Bonjour, Toni! It's been too long."

"It has been two weeks, Francy Pancy."

"Don't call me that," Francis added a little bite to it, but still made it playful enough for his own smile to shine even despite the difference.

Antonio laughed into the reservoir, and Francis made his way out of the control room of the training room, making his way than to the dorm kitchen. If he knew any better, Yao would probably be in there cooking and have no place for him despite the 12 stoves that were meant to be shared. Yet, he would get some sort of comfort Chinese food and that would be enough for him. So maybe he would stop in there and check before-

"Oh, hey, Lovi and I are coming to the base." Came the added dialogue and the Frenchman paused, feet stopping in his place.

Nevermind on that plan.

"Vraiment? You were here a few days ago, weren't you? I'm sorry I missed your visit because I was busy on a mission."

"Don't worry about it! And yeah, we are, but Lovino wanted to come back…" Antonio's voice drifted, and Francis posted himself on the wall, smiling at Ivan as he passed, giving him a slight curious stare yet not stopping to wait till the phone call was ended. "He's pissed, Francis. More so than usual." Francis paid no mind to the voice, noticing how Ivan had grocery bags in hand, logo in Russian. He must have used the teleporters. That brought a valiant question about how they were going to get there.

"He's always pissed. Anyways are you guys going to take the teleporters or come by boat?" Francis was already making his way back down the hall, quickly to the transporter room. He knew the answer but still felt the politeness to ask.

"Teleporter…" Antonio let the word stretch and Francis slowed his brisk walk, his mind off if the teleporters would be warm from Ivan's own travel to his friend's voice.

"You sound like… you sound like you aren't happy."

"I am not, mi amigo. Lovino is- he's bringing more than anger. He has not been eating, he doesn't sleep...I am afraid-"

"This time he won't leave." Francis filled in the blank, and his steps had gotten sluggish.

"You know it took him an hour two weeks ago, and 5 hours last time. He wants to be with Feli."

"...You know Arthur would never want him to stay that long." Francis murmured quietly, as now his slow pace was leading him on a tranquil path through the dorms. Loyalty was a scarce idea now, but one everyone still seemed to favor over abounding it for the truth. Sometimes, Francis wondered if being divided in emotions and logic wasn't that rare after all.

"I know Arthur is not...has not trusted really anyone for the last month but I still think that this needs to be done. Give him just one of the spare rooms. Of Arthur is worried I don't have to stay but- please Francis. Dio Mio, he cries so...he isn't Lovi now. He is just so...empty."

Francis was rubbing his face now, and looking to the clear glass doors marking the entrance, and exit to the teleporter pad. They had locked all outside admissions since Feliciano was deduced as in a coma. The only thing available were the teleporters. Yet, the failsafe was they required a code. One only known by the League members.

Or at least one that was supposed to be only known by the League to the certainly unique issue they had been facing, Arthur had sent Kiku to Lovi and Antonio's house to give them the codes and tell them both what had occurred, since Kiku was one of the only people who knew where the couple lived. He was going to send Ludwig, but they had doubted that would have been any good.

"I will see what I can do. But please just get here first."

"Okay. Thank you so much, Francis." Antonio told him in quiet words, and Francis hummed his 'your welcome'.

"Make sure not to-"

"Step any part out of the machine before pressing the button. Kiku gave us the rundown." There was a slight chuckle at the end, and slight muffled words out of range but still barely picked up by Toni's phone. "Ah, Lovi, don't be mean- Lovi just got out of the car, have to go."

"Oui, Toni. See you in a minute."

"Ay ay, Francy Pancy."

A gentle click stopped him from retorting, but he still let a slight smile slip onto his face as he pocketed his phone and waited for their new arrivals.

Luckily, Kiku was clear slated today and at the base. He had a feeling he would need to entitle his help as far convincing Arthur about Lovi.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ivan cracked his neck, stepping into the kitchen to be greeted by the smell of pancakes, and what smelled like fried chicken. Confusion only lasted a moment when he found the source; a flouncy Matthew at the stove.

"Metya, you are cooking breakfast at 3:30 in the afternoon. Not good lunch for system." The Canadian didn't jump in act alarm, unlike Alfred who had woken up so abruptly at his entrance that he now laid on his back, chair tipped over next to him. Instead, Matthew laughed, and whether it was at Ivan or Alfred neither were sure.

"There is always time for pancakes, Vanya."

Ivan chuckled, placing the bags on an empty counter. Alfred had stood up, and promptly glared at Ivan. The two's rivalry was well known, and often made a little too obvious with both of their over apparent hatred for each other. The Russian pretended not the notice the eyes, yet Alfred forced it further when he moved to stand next to Matthew.

"'Vanya?' Little cute nickname there." There was a bite that made Ivan lookup, set glare in place now. Nevermind ignoring. Ivan never was above fig, ting Alfred. In fact if Matthew wasn't there right now-

"Alfred, it is a common nickname in Russia. It's not like I just called him my Ivanyushenka."

The silence was both from Alfred's pure confusion and Ivan's blush.

"I'm sorry, did you just sneeze several times or something?"

"No, it's a form of intimacy which I might have over exaggerated-"

"You did. Only very naive and young couple use in my country as...cat names.I think I remember my grandma add the ending to all my sibling's last names while she pushed pastries down our stuffed throats."

"Sorry Ivan! I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable-"

"Dude, that's fucking hilarious! Mattie, didn't know you were all of a sudden a 90 year old babushka!" Alfred howled in laughter and Matthew pursed his lips, blushing hard in shame and embarrassment. Ivan felt sudden guilt at correcting the Canadian. Maybe if he had just let it go, it was clear that now both Northerners were very uncomfortable. Alfred's obnoxious wheezing did not help at all. In fact it was very annoying.

Ivan turned his attention to the American, gripping the granite to it cracked. Matthew noticed quickly, and his own grip on the handle of his pan tightened.

"Alfred, all our family does embarrassing things to us as kids-"

"Yet you were orphan, so you not know right?'

Silence. Any levity that had been there even in their bitter exchange was dismissed.

Alfred had whipped around, and Matthew had let his eyes grow increasingly wide. The violet gaze still locked on the pancake, currently burning. The sizzle was the only thing that was heard in the kitchen.

"Oh, Vanya, you love escalating things don't you?" Came the sneer, and Alfred took a step forward. The space grew shorter, and the tension denser as a result.

"I thought you were ready to go this far. After all, you were laughing like this was just game to you. I only joke as well." Ivan growled back, moving from hunched over position to a full stand. His height, while only 5 inches more, still seemed to tower Alfred.

Matthew bit his lip, and quickly whipped off his hands as he set the pan to the side. "Guys, let's not-"

"Shut up, Matthew." Alfred murmured at the Canadian flinched slightly, looking at him with a clear look of just hurt, that suddenly Ivan was right in Alfred's face.

" Do not speak rude to Metya like this." Came the borderline threat, and his hand twitched and itched at his side.

"Mattie isn't fragile and he can handle a harsh word now and again." A sick smile spread on his face. "Tougher than your sister was. Tell me again what happened to her, Ivan?"

Ivan swelled up, and Matthew shrunk down, looking terrified at Alfred but also clenching his fist at his side. Ivan prayed that Matthew didn't get in the middle of this did- he didn't deserve to be a part of their petty scrambles. Alfred only seemed to grow smugger, reaction all he needed to become cocky in their exchange. Suddenly, a hand was moving to the American's collar. A yelp came out of his mouth and Ivan wond back his fist. Matthew looked ready to rn forward in between, but neither of the fighters were focused anymore on anything but each other's eyes and both got ready to attack-

"Ay, why you are blocking my kitchen!" The tension was split by the Chinese man pushing between them. And so was their proximity, as Ivan and Alfred stumbled backward when two firm hands pushed against their chests. Yao might be a 5' 6.5" midget, as far as both were concerned, but he could fucking move when he needed.

Both immediately backed off, neither feeling the need to anger the telekinetic, as even if he didn't have physical manifestations like Arthur, the mental ramifications were far scarier as far as both were considered.

Matthew visibly relaxed, and Yao, after giving both Alfred and Ivan a quick glare, moved next to him.

"We should make tasty treats for all! I make my dumplings, you make pancakes that aren't burnt." Yao murmured before forcibly scraping the pancake off of the pan top with the spatula. Matthew laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yeah, th-that sounds nice."

"It will be. Plus, Lovino and Antonio come soon. We make warm welcome." Yao approved his own idea and Matthew was quick to agree.

During the exchange, after a few more glares, Ivan had moved to restocking the fridge with his groceries, while Alfred awkwardly stood in the area, watching the two cooks with flightly glances. The American looked out of place, so uncomfortable that it certainly made iVan feel a lot better instantly. Guilt hit Alfred hard. Always. And Matthew clearly was less than happy with him, as he had even refused to look at him now.

"Do you guys, do you want me to-"

"Why don't you go shower before." Came the sharp tone from Matthew, who without even looking at Alfred tossed him a rag. "You could use that to maybe clean the parts that clearly need it."

The dejected look on his face didn't make Ivan smirked into the meat box. It only made him slightly happy. He sweared it.

After Alfred shuffled away, Ivan finished rather quickly, and stood to smell the aroma that could only be Quebec charm and Chinese spice. He hummed pleasantly, floating over to the stove and moving to the stack of pancakes, when he was smacked by yao.

"没有! No touch before ready!' Fused the old man before pushing him not so gently out of the kitchen. Again, where Yao got this strength from was mystifying. Yet watching Matthew chuckle made it better for him, as finally he was completely swatted away.

The Russian made his way to his room, thinking of how he could make his water hotter to thus make Alfred's colder, all while smiling into his scarf. Matthew's smiles were intoxicating, at times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, my, big chapter! Hope it wasn't too much you guys! So, notes.
> 
> Love triangle? Maybe.
> 
> Arthur next chapter not being an ass? Probably not.
> 
> Me giving away hints to shit? Never.
> 
> But in all seriousness, the layout of the base may be confusing to you guys, but just think of it like one giant room with bunches of small chambers in it for dorms, training rooms, offices, and then a little space completely open for the kitchen. I may make a map some time, so let me know if you guys would find that useful!
> 
> As far as nicknames in Russian- I did some research and used the common -ya prefix used for coworkers and friends and put it at the end of the Russian Matthew, Met'yu, and made Metya. The whole Ivanyushenka is just Ivan with a bunch of loved one prefixes, essentially making it the equivalent of a person calling another my 'snuffle lumple sugar bean cutie pie!' So if you are confused, I hope that explains the prefix well enough!
> 
> Well, hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, and remember reviews are always appreciated!
> 
> See you guys next chapter!


	3. Wonderful Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a month since Feliciano fell into his coma. Everyone is afraid to admit the growing tension, especially between Ludwig and Arthur. Francis has been trying desperately to heal the crushed bonds between them all, but they only grow weaker every day. It's the perfect time for a villain to strike. Imagine their luck; one does.

Kiku was never very social. He had always been secluded and shyer around people he had felt less comfortable with. And now, with only Alfred to really trust, (Ludwig being a loose canon made their conversations tense) he more often than not would lock himself in his workshop for the day, and retire at night. No communication. No side quests. No hellos.  
If it weren’t for Yao slipping him food at regular times, he was pretty sure he would forget to eat all together. For that, he was grateful for his older cousin. While they had never been close before they both figured out they had a similar secret, now they were closer than Kiku even was to his parents back in Japan. They hadn’t been much competition, anyway, he reminded himself. Still, the notion of having a family was something the Kiku held high in his head, and one he held close in his heart.  
Of course, there were times Yao wasn’t always holding a positive spotlight in his mind.  
“Kiku! Open up the door! Lovino and Antonio come soon for tasty dinner and you come too!” The voice was shrill, cutting through the sound of his nano drill heavy at work sharpening the edge of his blade.  
Heaving up his welding mask, he sighed but removed both his thick gloves and apron.  
“はい. I’ll be out in a bit.’  
“Okay! But don’t take too long. Francis also wish to speak to you.’ Came the response before footsteps signified the Chinese man’s leave.  
Kiku puffed out a sigh, cracking his neck and rolling it to relieve the tension that sitting over his craft for 4 hours tended to bring. Lovino, while never extremely close to him, was a friend of his. Antonio too. And since Arthur had been very concerned over Feliciano he had limited their stays. Kiku felt sympathetic towards Lovino; who always had a loud mouth seemed stunningly silenced nowadays. The man just wanted to see his brother, and yet Arthur wouldn’t let him in for more than a week at a time. He knew that it had to be more than hard for Lovino, and made it a mission to try and see him whenever both he and Antonio were at the base.  
Of course, he assumed his visiting time, or the tasty dinner’, meant just the five of them- Francis being the extra man alongside Antonio and Lovino. He didn’t know the whole entire team was going to have a sit down in what felt like the first time in a century.  
It wouldn’t have been so much of an issue, either, if he wasn’t seated right in the middle of Ivan and Alfred, who seemed more angry at each other than usual today. Kiku sent a pleading glance towards his cousin to only have Yao bat it down, in turn, to talk to Arthur. Kiku frowned as both his friend and cousin turned him down for help. He didn’t necessarily blame them either for avoiding the strong squabble.  
“I’m totally in the right! Kiku is even on my side!” Alfred quickly slapped Kiku on the back, and the shorter went sputtering as he coughed into his hand. He was used to the large amount of force that was Alfred. But couple it with bad timing and him being too lost in thought to see it, he was left choking on his own breath. The usually apologetic American ignored him in order to glare down Ivan who immediately curled his lips up in disgust.  
“Clearly- over choking noise Kiku agrees much.” The sarcasm did not go unnoticed.  
Alfred growled, and he leaned across Kiku’s chest to glare Ivan in the face.  
“Well you are probably making him so uncomfortable that he wasn’t expecting it; that meaning this was all your fault!” An accusing finger was jabbed at Ivan’s direction. “You and your big ass nose.”  
Ivan, as much as he seemed to be treading the higher ground before, quickly met the American at his level, leaning in with a hand clenching the edge of the table. Kiku watched small cracks riddle across the top where the Russian’s fingers left an imprint. “Oh, you would know about insaviness, hm? Americans are too stupid to ever read atmosphere. I have big nose but at least I can see past it.”  
Alfred let out a puff of what Kiku assumed to be revolt, while Ivan smirked at his own commentary on Alfred’s arrogance.  
If Kiku was being honest, they were like overgrown toddlers. Overgrown toddlers that could punch through walls and probably each other’s skulls. Kiku noted their conflict hadn’t led to that yet, at least. So far, only bruises and few broken bones that Francis easily cured.  
“You are so lucky I don’t want to ruin the dinner Yao and Mattie made-”  
“Oh right, so soft around Metya. You treat him more like damsel than actual man. No wonder he seems more annoyed recently.”  
Kiku feared maybe tonight would be the night Francis wouldn’t be able to fix the wounds so easily.  
Alfred ceased forward, grabbing Ivan’s collar with a fist clenched at his side.  
“He is plenty satisfied, Ivan.”  
Said man grabbed the American’s wrist; tightening his grip around it harshly. “You wish to bring this far, hm?”  
Kiku pushed his chair back, biting his lip and moving his hands out in front of him.  
“U-um, maybe now is not good time? We really should-”  
“Stay out of it, Kiku!” Came two angry voices, and Kiku shrunk back, desperate to have his sword at a moment like this for self-defense.  
Arthur and Yao both stood up.  
“Alfred you put him down or so help me God-”  
“Ivan, you do not hurt Alfred! You make mess of dinner. At least take it to the training room where real fight can happen!”  
Arthur turned to Yao, lips curling back. “Oi, what the bloody hell!? Don’t encourage it!”  
“I never encourage it. I just said not in the dining hall! Training room would be good fight ground, instead. We should go after!”  
Arthur was, to say the least, floored. “They shouldn’t fight at all you twat!”  
The chaos that came next was of angry glares on Alfred and Ivan’s part, and over aggressive hand gestures on Arthur and Yao’s. Both pairs shared the role of using load words as a weapon.  
Kiku met Matthew’s eyes from across the table, seeing them peek out between his fingers as he cradled his face, both elbows on the table. Both disappointment, embarrassment, and frustration flew across his face at once, and Kiku empathized with the man. Alfred and Matthew dating was not a secret anymore (despite how hard they seemed to like to make it one). So it must not have been nice having your significant other fight and talk about your satisfaction at dinner.  
The borderline sadness he held at the tense situation as a whole made him think that maybe after dinner, he could have few words with Matthew. They were never close, but their worlds both seemed to revolve around Alfred at the moment. Plus, Kiku would really like to be able to trust someone else right now. But despite his best intentions, he knew the only reason he wished to actually talk was out of pity. And Kiku wasn’t necessarily proud of that.  
“Woah, some dinner, wine bastard.”  
The silence that followed was filled with only 5 pairs of eyes (Matthew didn’t bother looking up, Kiku noted later) turning to see Francis and Antonio cringing, and the deadpan expression of Lovino. Those eyes bore into Kiku, and before long he was only looking down at the table. He had seen dead men before, but Lovino’s eyes somehow even seemed more lifeless than theirs.  
A hand raised up, attempting a weak wave. The forelimb quickly fell back to the table though, and Matthew turned his head. “Hi, Lovino.” Came the equally deadpan tone from Matthew. He was met with a sideways glance from Lovino, who immediately did a once over of the clearly frustrated Canadian before letting out a long sigh.  
“I’m skipping dinner. I’ll be with Feli.” The Italian was gone with the bob of a curl.  
Antonio made a grab for Lovino’s but missed the other quickly set a pace towards the med bay. The Spaniard sent an apologetic look towards the group, scanning it quickly before then turned to Francis and made finger guns in Lovino’s direction. “I have to, you know, go follow him-”  
“It is okay, Toni.” Francis sent an empathetic smile, though, from Kiku’s perspective, it looked forced.  
“Gracias, amigo.” Antonio turned on his heel, not hesitating to immediately move towards the medical bay as well. Kiku figured that Antonio had also noted that Ludwig wasn’t in the dining hall during his quick sweeping apology.  
Once Antonio was out of range, Francis turned, face scrunched up in disbelief and disappointment. “You couldn’t stay civil for 5 minutes? You couldn’t even bring Ludwig to dinner, could you? I was trying so hard to make something work but, sacre bleu, nothing works out around here anyway!”The Frenchman continued to ramble about responsibility, and how they needed to get their act together. No one yet moved, even Ivan and Alfred kept gripping each other in their previous pose. Shame flashed in their eyes, and their fingers uncurled steadily, little by little, as they both exchanged glances from Matthew to Francis and then to Matthew again. Yao also decided to sit down, face cold as he listened to the words. Arthur even held remorse in his eyes at his actions. They all felt guilty; guilty at Francis’s words.  
Yet, guilt isn’t the feeling Kiku felt at those words; not even disappointed in himself.  
What did come was the general lack of care that spread through him as Francis continued to rant, and he suddenly thought that he didn’t really care if they couldn’t have dinner. That their meal plans had no place in his mind right now- not with a friend in a coma and another still in shock. Yet, Francis acted like the stupid 30 minute get together which only would prove to be filled with awkward conversations and stares was somehow the coming of the next damn Messiah.  
Kiku didn’t care if Francis was disappointed, and in fact, he felt something akin to annoyance and anger bubble up. He wasn’t doing much either, was he? They were all falling apart, and Francis was no different from them. Yet, he acts like any angry Mother as he continuously scolds their actions, telling them that this whole situation could be less tense if they acted normal. What precious moral high ground did he have above them? None. Francis, Kiku noted bitterly, was no better than them. And his mere accusation hidden in all of his words, all of his actions, made him sour.  
The festering anger coiled into a hot ball in his stomach, and words bunched up in his mouth. Some mean and cruel; others more logical with a touch of sarcasm to help strengthen the point. But they all screamed defiance at the man. They yelled about his own pathetic nature, and how Francis had no honor for daring to shame them.  
Arthur seemed to be somewhere on the same page. Unlike Yao, he had refused to sit down, feeling a familiar burn as his own thoughts melded together to form an angry resistance against the Frenchman in question. Now, he held his brows and lips down into an ugly frown as he slammed a hand on the table. It was startling enough that it made Matthew jump out of hiding behind his hands and one that made Francis cut off mid speech.  
“I’m sorry, Francis. You know that Ludwig hasn’t been too fond of leaving Feliciano. Not to mention that merely getting them to accept a sparring match earlier was a hassle; I didn’t think it would be too hard to see that he would have been unwilling to come. I wonder why your pride and arrogance suddenly came together, but you can’t possibly expect us to be perfect. In fact, I think maybe if you got off your high horse we could start listing some reasons why you were at fault as well, hm?”  
Francis pursed his lips and arched one eyebrow. Kiku noticed his eye twitch. “Oh? I don’t think I would want dinner either with you if there would be a new Cold War and Opium conflict at the table. Maybe that was why I was scolding you, Arthur. I thought a bunch of adults could have a civilized dinner. I didn’t know we were so dysfunctional that we couldn’t hold a dinner together.”  
“Oh, I see. Dysfunctional? I’m sorry that we have felt a little tense about Feliciano’s condition and that some of us are having a hard time still. We are all trying to cope with it, especially Ludwig. I don’t think our actions led to him-”  
“You always ignore the truth, Arthur!” Francis’s voice raised suddenly, and he stepped forward. His head sharked about wildly, and his once tied back hair fell to the sides of his face limply. “I’m sorry, Ludwig couldn’t attend. But you could have made an effort to be appropriate at the table and not break out into a fight!”  
“Oh, you bloody frog! You are always trying to prove your point- you aren’t always right!”  
Francis sneered suddenly, mocked awe on his face. “Poor Arthur, poor victim! Often, you are just so innocent. In fact, Feliciano not getting better from your failed attempts is all his fault. It’s not your fault he's still in a coma- if he was really trying he would just get up, right?”  
That was all it took for Arthur to immediately let his anger flow forward, as both profanities and insults flew from his mouth.  
The two were quickly lost in their conflict, and suddenly Kiku felt his anger sizzle out and turn into a sickening pit. What help was yelling at each other going to get? His own irrational rage would get them nowhere- neither would Arthur’s. Watching the two tear each other apart was both unsettling and painful. Coupled with Kiku’s own disgust feeling at his unpronounced anger, the atmosphere in the room suddenly became dense and uncomfortable.  
Both Ivan and Alfred removed from each other’s grips and currently fiddling with their scarf and phone, respectively. Yao was looking towards the ground, suddenly very fascinated in the steel floor. Matthew was sitting straight now, eyes glued on the pair, scanning them almost like he was looking for information. Kiku found that a bit odd, but ignored the Canadian once the conflict at hand seemed to reach its climax.  
“Oh yeah?! Well, your stupid French country is full of cowards- just like you! You run at any conflict!”  
“You want to act like you uphold bravery? You are hardly one to speak! You keep secrets and hide from any responsibility!”  
Arthur visibly flinched before hardening. “Francis.” His voice tittered and the tone was something that not even the Brit’s anger couldn’t encompass. Fear. But at what? Kiku felt suddenly bewildered at the turned situation.  
“Oh, quoi? Now that’s too much of a threat, huh? You really are a pathetic man, Arthur Kirkland!”  
What threat? What was Arthur shielding away? Why did Francis seem to make it out to be something horrible? “You have held this secret for too long! They deserve to know- we can’t keep everyone in the dark after all this time! Our fighting, the tense atmosphere- hell, even the way Ludwig is suspicious of you. They know something is going on, and yet you still keep them in the dark!”  
Everyone now seemed just as puzzled as him; confusion written over Yao’s and Ivan’s face. The statements raised hairs on the back of Kiku’s neck. He wasn’t as confused now as he was suspenseful- held by the sudden knowledge that something was being held right above his reach. A truth he was being kept from. And from Arthur, no less. Their leader and one of the most trusted members. Why would he hold back anything from them? Kiku wasn’t angry at this- only deeply saddened.  
Did Arthur just no trust them?  
Yet, not everyone held the same confused stare. Matthew’s mouth opened slightly, a small huff of air peeling out, which drew Kiku’s attention immediately towards him. The look like he put something together in his mind held steady across his face. It reminded Kiku of the corny actors in Alfred’s detective movies- the ones who string together impossible threads and solve a case. He would usually laugh at the overdone performance. Now, he only felt suspense trickle in as millions of questions swarmed in his head.  
A hand was placed on the table, palm down like Matthew was ready to get up and intervene. Kiku found his heart race in anticipation; he couldn’t figure out why. Something about Matthew screamed tension, and an added layer...exaggeration? He tottered forward, hand gripping the edge of his seat. Why did Matthew seem so sure yet so uncertain? Why did he seem to know something more than them? He was closer to Francis than anyone at the moment; did the Frenchman let something slip that made this situation suddenly recognizable?  
Matthew moved almost in slow motion and he began to stand.  
“Oh my God.I…. oh my God.”  
Matthew lips never moved, and for a moment Kiku was terribly confused once more.  
Yet, if he had taken a moment to look to his left he would find Alfred, still continuously staring at his phone. Now, Kiku noticed he had gone deathly pale, as he kept moving his mouth even though nothing come out.  
Matthew quickly turned his head. All thoughts of his previous acclimation were forgotten and his brows tugged down in sudden worry. “Alfred?” He made his way past Arthur and Francis (who now had the privilege of being confused) towards the American. “Alfred, what’s wrong?”  
Alfred kept moving his mouth, yet nothing escaped. He began to shake his head back and forth, blinking rapidly in his own shock. It was scary seeing such a loud member of the team so deathly silent, and Kiku felt the previous wave of nauseousness from before making a sudden comeback.  
“Alfred-san? Please, are you alright?” He placed a hand on the other’s shoulder but got no response.  
Arthur straightened, eyes scanning the American and moving forward. The former caretaker pursed his lips as he began to reach out to, only to be stopped by Matthew’s forearm. The Canadian had peered over Alfred's shoulder to read the message on the phone and now was equally shocked. But it quickly turned to sadness as Matthew suddenly surged forward, hugging the American.  
“Oh, Al…” The American only leaned into the embrace, mouth continuously moving like a fish out of water. Matthew gripped tightened as he moved Alfred to stand up, hugging him tighter, all while grabbing his phone. It was one smooth motion, and part of Kiku was impressed. The Canadian looked towards him then and nudged the phone in Kiku’s direction.  
“Please hold this, Kiku. I’m...I’m going to take Alfred to his room.” And with that, Matthew was gone. He still was hushing comforts as he gently maneuvered the American away. Alfred limply followed, almost ghostly moving with steps that seemed unregistered by the man.  
“What does it say?” Arthur’s voice made Kiku jump. The Brit looked almost apologetic at first, but then quickly hardened his look. “I’m sorry chap. I’m just-”  
“Worried.” Francis finished as he stepped forward. Yao and even Ivan nodded their heads too. Past arguments had been put aside, although the way Arthur sent Francis a sideways glance made Kiku suppose that they weren’t forgotten by any means. But, the Japanese man looked back at the phone, disregarding the thought in turn to answer the Brit.  
Part of Kiku, when he first saw the email lining the rectangular screen on the phone, immediately wanted to just make them read it themselves. He had no idea why it made him so scared, but the message there made his breath hitch.  
“It says…” The words felt sticky in his mouth, and despite not even knowing the person sent chills down his spine. If this was enough to shake Alfred so visibly, this man was important. And that knowledge made Kiku’s chest pull together painfully tight.  
“Kiku?” Yao was suddenly at his right, Ivan moving back so that he could move in. a hand was now settled to a perch on his shoulder. The presence sent a comforting glow, but he felt like it did little when he suddenly felt the tears collect in his eyes.  
“It says Davie’s dead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, hello there cliffhanger. (^~^)  
> Sorry, the update is two days late- I had to go over this thing a bunch of times. I’m trying super hard to make my writing more detailed and interesting, as well as add some more dialogue that made sense at that wasn’t ooc.  
> I hope you guys really like this one- I know it’s one of my favorite chapters! Especially after the last one...not my best work in my opinion. I’m afraid I rush it due to personal issues and the product is one of my least favorites. But now I am really proud of this one and hope you guys like as well!  
> Well, that's it, you guys! Remember, reviews are always needed and appreciated! Give me feedback on what better to do you guys if you have any!


End file.
